


guilty party

by bodysong



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Bottom Ryuji, Light BDSM, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 10:25:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13211808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bodysong/pseuds/bodysong
Summary: He was too close to him.  Was he breathing it in?  It was only because of Akira, longing to be closer, to feel his heartbeat like they were sharing the same body.  Because he got jealous, however briefly, despite how quickly he tried to brush the thought away.





	guilty party

**Author's Note:**

> i intended this to be pwp though it feels like i'm tackling some more dense characterization here and there. kind of shuffles between an actual storyline and just shameless porn. my bad! hope it's not too jarring.

A solo Mementos mission felt like old times. 

 

Of course he didn't mind his newfound friendships, and rekindling old ones, but nothing matched the adrenaline he felt when it was just him and Joker.  The trek is longer without Mona, but it was a sacrifice he was glad to make.  Joker was too easy to get lost in a crowd, retract among larger personalities.  He probably does it on purpose.  Though Ryuji was quick to admit he could call him his best friend, sometimes it felt like he didn't crack all of the code surrounding Joker. 

 

Like when he downs an enemy, and he smirks – just like  _that_  – it's nothing Ryuji could get a glimpse out outside the metaverse.  Something close to it, sure, but those half-smiles would be tender, soft.  Nothing like how his switch goes off here.  He wonders if anyone else notices, but everyone seems larger version of themselves; confident, cocky.  Joker is all of those things, but something else he just can't grasp. 

 

A stroll together towards a schoolground bully could at least be another piece to the puzzle.  Joker strides with little caution in Mementos, hands in his pockets, head bowed in a perpetual slump.  A classic delinquent.  The only thing missing is the cutting glares of fellow classmates down the hallways.  He's missed this. 

 

Shadows are few and far between when they're on foot, easily missing the pair in their patrols.  Mementos would be easier to traverse this way, if it didn't take so long.  Ryuji's gloved hands feel itching for a fight to get the blood pumping, just for a little excitement, but understands they'd be at a disadvantage. 

 

Maybe after this he could invite him for a trip to the arcade, or invite him over for a study session.  His mother had been urging him to meet him ever since she saw his name among the top scores for the winter exam.   

 

 _Uhh_ _._ _That might be a little weird..._  

 

"Skull," Joker says curtly, a hand extending in front of him to stop his movement.  He knows better not to make a confused hum in reply.  Joker eases the two of them down to a crouch.  Three shadows, not very big, though size rarely had anything to do with it.  But with only three of them, it isn't terribly worrisome.  With the group blocking their only way further, it seems like the only option. 

 

Joker seems to have come to the same conclusion.  "On my mark," he instructs, brandishing a small knife.  His figure contorts, sneaking among the shadows to ambush the winged, humanoid shadow, slitting its throat.  Blood erupts from the figure silently, but the remaining shadows are alerted to their drop in numbers.  Ryuji follows behind, a blunt blow knocking one shadow to the ground while the other scrambles away from the impact. 

 

"Good," Joker comments, and it's hard not to feel warmth flood his cheeks.  He's lucky his mask hides it.  "Be careful," he says, stance widening and bracing himself for retaliation. 

 

"Ain't I always?"  Ryuji grins, steeling his body to withstand the counterattack. 

 

The physical attack is weak – sharp claws barely digging into the fabric of his vest.  Ryuji takes a step back to gather his momentum and throw the shadow off of him, sending it flying back into the ground. 

 

 _These guys are pushovers._  

 

 _That can't be right._  

 

Then his vision blurs, the triple coattails of Joker's suit curling around his feet.  His body shields him only a second longer before he drops to a knee, graceless in a way Ryuji had never seen before.   

 

"Damn it," Ryuji grits between his teeth, almost ashamed of himself as he sinks lower with Joker to stay behind him.  His fingers claw at his face, bellowing a sharp bolt of lightning to crash down against the remaining shadows closing in on them.  What little strength Joker had left to kneel escapes him, now straining to keep himself from collapsing.  Ryuji worries his lip.  "Shit, shit - I'm sorry, man."  He crawls beside him, throwing his leader's arm over his shoulder.  "We gotta—" had Joker always been this heavy? "—get out of here."  The assault didn't give Ryuji much time to think, but he remembers Joker being in good health before that hit. 

 

"Ryuji," Joker breathes.  He'd never once call him his real name in the metaverse, but he'll take it. 

 

"What's up," Ryuji grins, pulling the pair of them to their feet.  He takes a step forward, intent on dragging Joker if need be, but the other thief doesn't budge.  "Hey, I know you saved my life and everything, but work with me here..."  This is terrifying, as loathed as Ryuji is to admit it.  For all of Joker's quick thinking and planning, throwing himself in front of a teammate seemed downright stupid of him.  Ryuji jumps at him taking a gloved hand to his temple, as if he read his mind. 

 

"Let me back down," Joker says, composing himself, though the vice-grip around his hair suggests the opposite. 

 

"You can lie down all you want when we get out of here, all right?  Just—" Joker's arm around him clamps down as he drops to his knee again, throwing Ryuji to the floor with a surprised yelp.  "Asshole!"  Ryuji groans, but holds his tongue as Joker's weight topples over him and pins him to the ground.  "Didn't mean that.  Just get off!" 

 

 _What the hell_ _?_  

 

Ryuji shuffles under Joker's weight, but his balled fists on either side of his head suggest Joker isn't planning on letting him go – and for that matter, he's not exhausted, is he?  He has enough awareness – or  _something_  – to keep perfectly still like this. 

 

A fraction of a second later his leader is trembling, like when he was about to pull his hair out, and  _this is really bad_.  Ryuji opens his mouth to speak but dark curls descend upon him, with Joker's lips almost brushing at his ear.  "Ryuji..." 

 

Again with "Ryuji".  Joker was going to make him wince at hearing his own name.  Talking it out doesn't seem like it's going to work.  He's not listening.  Ryuji's sure Joker would understand if he just socked him in the jaw to knock him out cold.  It'd get him out of whatever funk he's in right now, at least. 

 

Joker's hands at his wrists has him reconsidering.  "I'm really going to kick your shit in, Akira!"  He writhes against Akira hoisting up both his wrists over his head.  Ryuji peers up to see Akira's eyes stare right into him, sending a chill down his spine.  Then, for a split-second, Akira shudders, and Ryuji bursts out of his hold to flip their position.  Knocking him out doesn't seem feasible if Akira's going to fight back, and again Ryuji is witless in forming a plan to leave. 

 

"God, stop—movin' around and let me think," Ryuji grumbles, straddling Akira to keep his legs locked in place.  He slaps away Akira's hands scrabbling at his hips.  His eyebrows furrow at that, how meek Akira's touch is, unlike the aggression of a brainwashed ally.  His crimson hands keep crawling back to his sides like a moth to flame.  Ryuji sighs. 

 

"I-I can't," Akira stirs, his fingers squeezing almost painfully into Ryuji's hips.  "I can't control it." 

 

"Control  _what_?"  Ryuji plucks the offending digits away, this time binding his wrists together – at the cost of forgetting to keep Akira's hips still and – oh.  "No way."  Akira withers at him pushing his weight back down against his – "No, no way."  Morbidly he cranes his head back to peek at his leader's ailment,but like clockwork Akira snaps his hands away from Ryuji's loosened grip.  "C-can't you just fix that yourself?  I'll give you privacy, I won't bring it up  _ever_ and—" 

 

"I want you." 

 

"Ugh!"  He should've just sucker-punched him when he had the chance.  "Damn it, stop with the grabby hands..."  His face is about to melt off.  Ryuji loosens his scarf, then considers its tactical advantage, and slings it off his neck.  "Don't get too excited," he says, dragging Akira's hands above his head to tie them together, making sure to avert his gaze.  "So...when's this thing gonna wear off?" 

 

Akira's tongue darts over his lips.  His body slithers underneath him, lifting up his hips.  Ryuji keeps digging himself a bigger grave.  Of course he'd like that.  Ryuji steadies an open palm, striking Akira across his face.  Naturally, he'd like that too.  "Anyone home?"  Akira's curled lips suggest his other plan didn't work, and exasperated their current situation tenfold.  A pink, splayed handprint sits comfortably across his cheek, contorted by Akira's grin. 

 

His tone is dark when he speaks again.  "Untie me, Ryuji." 

 

"Like hell."  Ryuji catches the scorn in his voice, but he can't help but feel hopeless.  "You're just gonna...I don't even wanna know what..."  He's learned a long time ago to abandon shame in the face of danger, but he still chooses to dwell on it. 

 

 _I want you_. 

 

Is that the spell talking? 

 

Knocking a little sense into him didn't work, making the ailment more unusual than others.  Brute forcing it seems fruitless; Akira is surprisingly strong, and in this state, extremely stubborn.  Well, shit. 

 

No shame in the face of danger, right?   

 

"A-Akira..."  Ryuji hates how his voice trembles, no matter how many times he rehearses it in his head.  "If we're gonna...do this, we're gonna do it on my terms."  As if he has any, or any inclination of what to do.  From what Akira was implying before, the spell's effect seems more centered on the object of his...affection, rather than his physical reaction.  

 

Initially he had thought about narrating it to Akira, to make this as clinical as possible, but the words are lodged in his throat.  He slides further down Akira's body, rubbing almost painfully against Akira's erection.  The reaction from Akira is instant: a low growl.  Ignoring it, Ryuji's fingers trace the hem of Akira's pants, and begins a countdown from three. 

 

He flinches at Akira's moan.  "Untie me." 

 

"No way!" 

 

"I'll know what to do with you."  He's not sure if he can go through with this if Akira keeps...saying things like that.  Akira's body begins to struggle underneath him, whatever control he had before seems to have worn too thin.  Ryuji lets out a frustrated groan.  Briefly he thinks about complying, but thinks better of it.  Akira should learn he can't always have it his way. 

 

Better to just rip this off like a band-aid.  An ungloved hand reaches out to wrap around Akira's cock, thick and aching against his stomach.  He hisses.  Without thinking he catches Akira's eyes, wild with lust, his bangs clinging to his damp forehead.  Akira's boot heels dig into ground, legs starting to buckle at Ryuji building a steady pace.  "This is what you want, right?"  As procedural as possible.  Checking his temperature.  Cleaning a wound. 

 

"I...want...it..." 

 

It's satisfying hearing it, even if Ryuji pretends it isn't.  Akira at his whim.  He shouldn't enjoy it this much, or else it'll become a habit.  Ryuji picks up the pace, squeezing his fingers, thumbing around his slit.  Things that he likes, in the privacy of his bedroom.  He wonders if the sensation is better here, being pinned against the cold ground of Mementos rather than the warm comforts of home.  Akira's head lolls to the side, his hair obscuring his face.  He's kind of...hot.  As much as Ryuji doesn't want to make this more awkward than it already was – he doesn't mind doing this to Akira.  Especially if it meant taking away his control, indulging in his vulnerability. 

 

 _I want you_.  Can't you say it again? 

 

"It's...too much...I'm close..." 

 

"Already?"  Ryuji chirps, this time letting a bit of smug satisfaction wash over him.  Might as well cut to the chase, then.  Akira's body begins trembling underneath him at the pressure, head swaying.  His back arches, hips rising with Ryuji in tow, as his cum soaks his vest.  Ryuji ventures a curious peek at his leader, face drenched in sweat, his mouth hanging open only slightly.  There was still something elegant about him, even after all of that. 

 

Ryuji looks down to zip up his best friend, and maybe to indulge himself in his handiwork, but notices something peculiar.  "You're, um, still hard?" 

 

"Ryuji..."  Akira croaks.  "Do...something..."  Akira seems close to turning over if only Ryuji's weight didn't keep him trapped. 

 

"I-I don't know!"  Ryuji finally admits.  He leans over Akira, palms spread against his chest.  "W-what should I do?" 

 

"Inside of my jacket...low pocket...there's salve."  Ryuji reaches around to fish it out.  He never figures out where he gets this stuff, but shelves that thought in the back of his mind. 

 

"Uh...okay.  Got you.  Now what?" 

 

"Take off...take...your clothes off." 

 

Ryuji's eyes widen.  "Huh?" 

 

Akira's groan doesn't soothe him very much.  "Take off...your clothes...or I'm going to—" Ryuji digs his fingers into Akira's chest, "— _fuck_  you so hard you can't walk..." 

 

Ryuji doesn't want to know what this spell would do to a whole band of thieves.  Actually, he really doesn't, because the thought of Akira saying something like that to someone else makes his stomach sink. 

 

"Okay," he says, barely a whisper.  Akira's head cranes forward so he can watch; Ryuji unbuttons himself slowly, his jacket zipper falling suit, as the piece falls to tangle between Akira's legs.  He can't help the cold sweat that runs down his spine when he realizes Akira is watching him undress.  Somehow Akira's stony face is even more unsettling than his smug grin.  Steeling himself, Ryuji's fingers travel lower to loosen his belts, then drags along his zipper.  Their position makes it difficult to throw his pants off, and of course the tightness only adds more to his plight.  He lowers himself onto Akira, their heads level with each other for the first time in what felt like hours. 

 

His hips wiggle almost comically trying to rid himself of his slacks, when he feels a hot tongue at his throat.  "Hey!" 

 

No response.  If he chides Akira for every perverted thing he was about to do, they'd never leave.  Ryuji decides to ignore the nibbling at his neck in favour of getting his pants off. 

 

"Ryuji...can I kiss you?" 

 

"You're already...doin' that anyway..." He's out of breath.  Ryuji doesn't realize just how difficult getting out of his costume was.  Finally, he's able to kick them off, now utterly naked on top of his best friend. 

 

"On your lips."  Akira mouths against his adam's apple. 

 

"Never kissed anybody before."  He's surprised at how easily he lets it slip.  But to be fair, it was probably the least offending admission of the night.  "Dunno how to, I guess."  The spell has to be rubbing off on him, too.  Without prompting, Ryuji leans close, lips skimming over Akira's own.  Heat engulfs his face.  Akira lifts his head to crash their lips together, definitely unlike any first kiss Ryuji had fantasized about.  Ryuji draws back quickly, heat flushing his cheeks. 

 

There's a look of contentment on Akira's face.  "'S my first kiss, too..." He slurs, his head dropping like it took all the life out of him.  It makes Ryuji's stomach churn.  He looks back down at the salve barely clinging to his grasp.  He has half his wits about him to know what Akira wants. 

 

Ryuji coats his fingers in the salve, clear and viscous, and lies back down against Akira.  His heartbeat against his ear calms his nerves.  One finger slips inside easily enough.  "Mn..." 

 

"Hurry." 

 

"Shut up," Ryuji snaps, lifting his head up.  Akira lunges for his lips, catching his bottom lip between his teeth.  He chances another finger, this time met with resistance, and moans into Akira's mouth.  Something in him deepens their kiss, pushes his fingers deeper inside. 

 

Akira's hips buck again from neglect.  Ryuji feels like he's wearing himself thin, but stretches his free arm awkwardly down to tend to Akira's cock.  Kissing him would have to take a backseat, as much as he liked how Akira chases after him when he lifts his head.  To think he could get out of this with just a half-hearted handjob.  With effort, Ryuji lifts himself back up, feeling his core strain, to sit straight in Akira's lap. 

 

"I like that," Akira purrs, his eyes no doubt fixed on Ryuji's hands jerking him off and slipping inside himself.  "Putting on a show for me?"  However far-gone Akira must be from the spell, that certainly sounded like the Joker he always knew.  "I can see everything..."  Ryuji winces at that – Akira could see all of him, completely naked – he's surprised it only hits him now. 

 

"It's...nice, huh..." Ryuji tries to joke, twisting his fingers inside, squeezing Akira in his grip.  "I've been working out—" His words almost crash into a high-pitched screech as he hits something inside him, and his toes curl instinctively.  He doubles over, retracting his fingers at the awkward positioning.  He wasn't too up to snuff on sex ed, but that was definitely his...G spot?  He doesn't know.  Whatever it is, he can't be too careless.  Akira's face is already scrunched with curiosity. 

 

"Why are you stopping?" 

 

 _Violence solves nothing, Ryuji_. 

 

"I-I'm..." Ryuji says, like the air's been knocked out of him, "I...I wanna make this good for you."  Flirtatious or deceptive, he doesn't know.  He's not sure if he's playing this at an angle anymore, or if he ever was.  He lies back down on Akira, against his heartbeat, against the cold leather of his jacket on his warm skin, and kisses him.  Akira relents, letting Ryuji lead, relaxing his body into Mementos's embrace.  Behind them, Ryuji slips his fingers back inside, his body pushing against it, drawing his fingers even deeper.  "I like you," Ryuji buries his face into the crook of Akira's neck, "I wanna do this with you..."  Akira doesn't reply; he's not sure if he wants him to.  He's cold, his face burns, his stomach is full of butterflies.  There was no easy way out, but this... 

 

His fingers brush at his prostate again, making him shudder against Akira's body. 

 

 _I want Akira to do this to me—I want him to want me—_  

 

"A-ahh..."  Akira still doesn't speak, even as Ryuji neglects kissing him in favour of concentrating on preparing himself.  The salve squishes and oozes around his fingers, liquid heat dripping down the inside of his thighs.  It feels good.  Ryuji noses at his leader's neck, the scent of his shampoo and cologne flooding his senses.  "I want to be good...for you..."  It's hard to think rationally.  Once they finish this, they need to leave immediately.  Any lurking shadow could be right at their doorstep, and yet...Ryuji can't find anything in himself to care. 

 

"Ryuji." 

 

The blond jolts to attention, relieved at hearing Akira's voice.  His vision is hazy, Akira's pale skin and dark hair the only shapes he can recognize. 

 

"Let me go." 

 

Ryuji's fingers slip out with a wet pop, crawling over Akira to unfasten the scarf still clung tight to Akira's wrists.  He wants nothing more than to slide back down again, bury himself in Akira's scent, but he's being guided onto his back.  His thighs spread apart on their own. 

 

"That's you being good, right?" 

 

"Y-yes..."  His eyes can't stay open.  When they unglue themselves, Akira is draped in shadow before him. 

 

"Being good for me."  A weight fixes on top of him, heavy leather encasing the two of them.  It's suffocating.  Akira's voice, his body, everything so familiar to him, he's smothered in it.  Soft fabric rubs between his legs, along with Akira's cock pushing at his own.  It's wet with salve, warm from Ryuji's fingers tending to him only minutes ago. 

 

His hips grind against Akira, legs moving to close around his waist.  "Please..."  He's going crazy.  Nothing of what he's thinking stays in his head for long.  Any signal he sends for his body to move, it does the opposite – it clings to Akira, chases the scent of soap and shampoo.  "P-please just...fuck me..." 

 

Ryuji hears a laugh, and shivers like he's running a fever.  Putting the pieces together feels like running a marathon.  He's not feeling right.  What went wrong? 

 

 _It can't be...the spell?_  

 

He was too close to him.  Was he breathing it in?  It was only because of Akira, longing to be closer, to feel his heartbeat like they were sharing the same body.  Because he got jealous, however briefly, despite how quickly he tried to brush the thought away. 

 

Akira's thumb at his lip snatches back his attention.  How can he be so calm about this?  Ryuji's whole body was on the verge of combusting, but Akira has the control to... _tease_  him, and he's only feeling the secondary effects of the spell.  He can't help but respect Akira more.  His gloved thumb pushes in deeper, the taste of leather invading Ryuji's mouth.  Again he realizes the stark contrast between them, with Akira being fully clothed, right down to his damned gloves.  It makes him feel defenseless in a way he can't describe, at Akira's mercy now, however impaired his control actually is. 

 

Not that he isn't relishing in it, swirling his tongue around Akira's thumb.  Akira looks down at him, his pupils blown, hypnotized by the way his digit sinks further between Ryuji's lips.  Maybe he isn't as powerless as he thought; the two of them, clashing with each other, taking each other apart - that's what he wants.   

 

Akira pulls his thumb from Ryuji's lips, sliding it tight down Ryuji's chin and throat, where his fingers wrap around his neck. 

 

"You want me to fuck you?" 

 

Ryuji grins, absolutely realizing what he's getting himself into.  "Are you deaf?" 

 

The grip around his throat tightens.  Ryuji catches how Akira's hips grind down on him, involuntarily – strung along by his words.  "I'm going to fuck you," he snarls, squeezing Ryuji's neck so the blond's head cranes upward, catching Akira's narrow eyes.  "Until you scream, and everyone can hear you—that's what you want?" 

 

"Yeah," he barely makes out, not once diverting his gaze.  His body aches.  He can't keep this up, but doesn't want to be the first one to fold.  "I want everyone to know," he sits up on his elbows, Akira giving way, and wraps his arms around Akira's neck, "you're all mine." 

 

No smirk this time, no nothing – and he's won. 

 

His body is thrown back down against the ground, and it's painful, it's so painful – and it's so  _good_.  It feels like his head's been split open, and Akira is upon his body like a vulture, teeth dragging into his skin.  Then he bites, and it hurts, but he can't help from smiling.  Warm blood trickles from his neck, pools in the meeting of his collar bone.  Now Akira's grace leaves him, and there's nothing gentlemanly or remotely charming about him.  Now he's just as naked as Ryuji.  Akira looks up at him, his face against Ryuji's chest, eyes wild. 

 

"Hurry up or we're gonna die in here," Ryuji grins at him, hands threading leisurely through Akira's curls.  He could imagine them in bed together like this, basking in the sunlight of a lazy afternoon.  Akira's eyes drift away, in understanding or obedience, he's not sure.  Akira picks himself off Ryuji's chest and slides his hands along Ryuji's thighs, pushing them apart further.  "I've never done it, not even with a girl," Ryuji blushes, though he already admitted to never having kissed one, either.  "S-so...you better make this good for me." 

 

Akira is silent, but his tongue drags across his top lip.  Gloved fingers trail lower, thumbs spreading his opening.  Ryuji can't help but groan in embarrassment. 

 

"What're you looking so hard for..." 

 

"I love you," Akira says, bluntly. 

 

 _Don't_ _...don't do that.  It's not fair._  

 

"Just fuck me!" 

 

His cock slides in, with effort, but slides into the hilt all the same.  Air escapes him.  Ryuji curses, head tossing to the side.  Akira stays there, and Ryuji can feel him tremble as he towers over him, hands planted at his sides.  It's too much, more than his fingers could ever be.  Akira fills him to the brim, stretching him more than his fingers did. 

 

"It's hot," Ryuji chokes out, fingernails digging into Akira's coat.  "I-it's like...it's in my s-stomach..." 

 

Akira tosses Ryuji's legs over his shoulders, sinking even deeper into him.  They were going to die in here.  He can't think about anything else other than Akira inside him, arms reaching out in vain only to be caught around him like a magnet. 

 

"Does it hurt?" 

 

"A-A little..." 

 

"Good," Akira breathes in his ear, pulling out only to slam back in.  Ryuji cries out, clinging even tighter to him.  Without thinking his fingers pull violently at Akira's hair, dragging him away from his ear.  Akira laughs at that, the sound intoxicating.  Then he's challenging him, shoving into him to garner his reaction.  Ryuji's grip in his hair tightens.  "You...like that...?" Akira breathes in between thrusts.  Not really, he thinks, though from Akira's reaction it's definitely something his leader was into.  Akira's hips slam into him again and Ryuji wishes he had flesh to tear his fingernails into.  "Mess me up like how I'm going to mess you up..."  He wants nothing more than that.  Akira moaning helplessly, squeezing his body tight, getting lost in only the two of them. 

 

"I-I love you," Ryuji shudders, burying his face into Akira's neck.  Akira picks up the pace.  It's hard to breathe, air filling his lungs in only shaky gasps and short breaths.  "I love you," he whispers again, against Akira's hair.  His leader's focus seems to be only on rutting against him, the effects of the spell turning him into a wild animal.  "Mmh...Aki— _Akira_..."  His name rolls easily off his tongue.  He thrusts faster, each thrust squeezing hot salve out of his body, the sounds echoing off the walls.  His cock slides in effortlessly, Ryuji's body shaping around him.  The sounds are too much already, along with Akira's heat and weight on top of him – his toes begin to curl, cursing himself for how quickly he's about to cum.  There's no time to warn Akira before he hits something, that something, and his body trembles. 

 

Akira pays little attention to the wetness between their bodies.  Exhaustion begins to settle in him, but he can't recover while Akira keeps pounding into his body.  His insides still pulsate from the aftereffects of his orgasm, his legs barely able to wrap around the small of Akira's back.  He's too sensitive.  The more Akira keeps up his pace, the more he's losing grip on reality.  After only several seconds of clarity he can only focus on Akira again, squeezing him closer to his body.  Blood rushes down between his legs, and he's hard again. 

 

"I-I can't," Ryuji whines, trying to catch Akira's eyes, "keep doing this."  He's aching, precum already starting to leak down his cock. 

 

"Do it for me," Akira says, more like a command.  His focus is back on Ryuji again, and it is doing nothing to quell how quickly his heart beats.  Akira keeps his head level with Ryuji's, breaths hot and heavy in his ear.  He can't do this – he really, really can't. 

 

"It's not—I  _can't_ —" 

 

"Cum for me," he sighs in his ear, and it's enough.  His orgasms hit him only minutes between, the sensation seeming to only get worse as each wave hits him.  He clenches around Akira almost violently, squeezing his dark curls until he's almost ripping them off his scalp. 

 

This is torture.  This is how to drive your opponent crazy, to make them thrash and scream, destroy every sense, lose all control. 

 

"I-I c-can't do it anymore, Akira..."  Every word is a stutter, sentences coming to him so easily yet so difficult when they pour out of his mouth.  He knows he's going crazy.  All of his words are slurring together, punctuated only from hiccupping and almost shrieking.  Heat pools in his stomach, and he's close again for the umpteenth time.  He's lost count.  "I'm...gonna c-cum..." 

 

Only then, for the first time in what felt like hours, did Akira stop.  Ryuji barely registers it, the pulsing in his body continuing despite Akira's stillness.  His body feels numb.  But then Akira is laughing, and his hairs stand on end.  "Nothing came out." 

 

"W-what..." 

 

Akira shoves into him, and his eyes widen. 

 

"W-wait, Akira—" 

 

His head slams back, the thrust ripping into him. 

 

"You came so much, now nothing's coming out..."  It almost sounds like glee.  His pace is brutal.  He's forgotten where they are, what their goal is in all of this.  This must be the spell's peak, being utterly consumed with sex, every sense of decency lost on him.  Akira's going to kill him.  Ryuji can't help his body from convulsing as Akira fucks him through another dry orgasm, body twisting and contorting under Akira's grip. 

 

His consciousness begins to fade.  Tears and spit soak his face, but he can't find anything in himself to wipe it away, to cling onto Akira tightly anymore. 

 

"I'm close," Akira whispers hot in his ear. 

 

"Please..." 

 

"Beg me for it." 

 

"Please...p-please...cum...inside..." 

 

Ryuji doesn't have the strength to care when Akira flips him over unceremoniously, his body crushed flat against Mementos.  His pace is just as quick from this angle, maybe even faster, mounting him like this.  Akira drives into him again, in one long shove, and Ryuji feels something hot pouring inside him.  Pouring, and pouring – more and  _more_  – he can't take it.  Akira's hips keep pushing at his ass, trying to go deeper, shoving Ryuji forward like a ragdoll. 

 

Akira sighs over him. 

 

Is it over? 

 

"Skull," Akira –  _Joker_ , says, and it's funny.  If his cock wasn't aching underneath him, with Joker's cum leaking down his legs, he'd laugh.  Now they're back to normal, right?  He fixed it.  "Are you all right?" 

 

He doesn't move when Joker pulls out of him, and he hates how empty he feels after.  "...Yeah."  Joker lifts his body away, but the jacket surrounding Skull suggests he didn't move far.  Then a cold weight drops on top of him, and he almost yelps.  It's Joker's coat. 

 

"I'm sorry," he says, hands at his shoulders to turn him around.  "I should have—" 

 

"You don't gotta...apologize about it..."  Skull can't bring himself to look Joker in the eyes.  He sits up, with effort, and Joker slings his coat around his bare shoulders.  He's never seen him with his jacket off before.  His striped garment underneath is a vest, cutting off at his shoulders, and his eyes run toward the muscles of his upper arm.  So that's what he's been hiding from him all this time, always in those damn jackets, even training over the summer.  "Um."  He has to say something.  He doesn't expect Joker to, though it wasn't a slight against him.  "Akira," already off to a bad start, "y-you're my best friend, so I don't want what happened—I don't want it to make things...weird between us." 

 

Weird, like wanting to be special to Akira, to  _I love you_ — 

 

"It's not."  Joker wraps him in his coat, the flared lapels hiding all the bites and suckling at his neck, the bruising at his hips.  Then Joker hugs him, and maybe it's okay to think he's in love with him, just a little. 

 

"Okay," it's easier to trust him than to argue.  He reciprocates the hug, squeezing him tight.  He wants to make the air around them lighter, make a joke or try to justify their tryst.   _I'd do anything for you_.  He can't say it.  His courage is lost when Joker lifts him up and carries him in his arms, back to their starting point.  His bare legs peak out from Joker's coat wrapped loosely around him. 

 

"Next time we'll know better," Joker says, though more to himself than to Skull.  He can already see the other boy planning a strategy for next time.  He doesn't want to think about Mementos or missions or thievery for the next little while. 

 

"My mom wants to meet you." 

 

"Does she?" 

 

"Yeah...she thinks you're cool.  'Cause you are...she's happy we're friends." 

 

The uneven ground makes him cling closer to Akira. 

 

"I am, too." 


End file.
